One Day
by tessinciucy
Summary: What you lived as a child is what makes you the person you are. It's true, even for Marty Deeks. Just a little one shot that popped out of my mind. Rated T, for delicate matters. If you're sad, don't read it. Not a death fic.


I have to admite that I was very conflicted about posting or not this story. First because of the subject and then because I wrote it in ten minutes during one of my bathroom-escape at work (yep this is what I do... my bad!) and so I didn't know if it made a lot of sense.

But Xwing12 told me that it was worth posting and I trust her and her instinct, so here it is.

Just a warning, if you're sad or if you're feeling down, maybe it's better if you don't read it. Not a death fic, but there are mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and I know that not everyone can take it.

As always I don't owe NCIS LA or any of its character.

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One Day

And so it began… again. The screams reached his ears and he could only start shaking. The fear gripped his little heart. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he climbed out of the bed and hid under it, shutting his eyes and covering his ears, hoping that it would stop, hoping that history didn't repeat itself.

But little 7yrs old Marty knew too well that it wouldn't stop. This was only the beginning of another sleepless night that would only end with pain and tears.

He could hear his father's slurred voice yell obscenities at his mother who was begging him to calm down. The sound of furniture going to pieces, of objects crashed violently, echoed in the whole house, making Marty jump every time he heard it.

His little heart was beating madly in his chest, ready to explode.

"Please stop, Gordon. I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to burn it!" His mother's plea was so desperate. It was the voice of a woman resigned to her fate, unable to fight anymore.

"Oh no, you didn't mean to do it, but you were too busy spoiling that little brat!"

The sound of a hard slap and of a body falling to the floor took Marty's breath away. Soon, other sounds he had sadly learnt to recognize very well, filled his room, piercing his ears, reverberating through his brain.

The screams ended and for a moment there was only silence, an overwhelming and consuming silence that chilled his bones, making him shiver violently.

Marty knew too well that the silence was not the end of the nightmare, but just the first step towards what was coming next. He braced himself, knowing that there was no way out, no escape. His father had, in fact, nailed down the window of his room so he couldn't open it and get out to safety. He was simply stuck in here. He curled into a fetal position waiting for the inevitable to happen.

As the tears started flowing again, he imagined a life without all of this, without the fear, without the pain, without the sheer terror that contorted his stomach, clenching it with tight knots. A life without his father in the picture… a normal one, in which he was able to play with his friends in the garden or in the house without being scared of messing around. A normal life in which his mother and he could have dinner together, laughing and joking and not be in fear of his father's return.

Sadly, it was only a dream. Reality was far from this. Reality was the enraged and very drunk man who was climbing up the stairs.

Reality was the door opening and his father stepping inside.

"Where are you little son of a bitch? Come on, little bastard, come to daddy!"

Shivers ran down Marty's back. The fear paralyzed him. His eyes were still closed but he sensed his father's presence, the smell of alcohol was too intense, simply nauseating.

"And here you are!" the gruff voice he knew so well told him as he felt dragged out of his shelter by his ankle.

"No, no…!" Marty struggled and screamed, unable to look at his father, at the monster haunting his nights.

"You're so pathetic, whining like a little girl! Look at you!" The man turned him around so he could stare straight into his blue eyes. "Man up, Marty!"

The first slap hurt and so did the first punch. Even if you tried, you would never get used to the pain, especially if the person hurting you was the one who was supposed to protect you. And this was a lesson that Marty learnt too early in his young life.

He didn't know how long it took to his father to get tired of beating him and to feel the need of another drink. He was only aware of the agony engulfing his little body, of the blood filling his mouth with its copper taste, of the tears that burnt his face.

He hated all of this, he hated his life… hell he hated this man his father had turned into.

And in that moment, when everything seemed lost, when there was no way out, little Marty did exactly what his father told him to do. In that moment, curled into a fetal position crying and licking his wounds, Marty became a man. A man who would defend himself and his mother at every cost, a man who would never allow his father to break him.

It would take time, maybe, but in the end he would win.

One day little Marty would face his fears and would laugh at them.

One day little Marty would do something important for the people.

One day little Marty would become a good man.

One day… but not tonight. Tonight was still the time to cry for a little boy who would never have his childhood back, for a little boy who only wanted to be loved.

One day…

The end

* * *

And this is it. I hope it wasn't too 'heavy', but I wish it can reflect how Deeks became who he is today.


End file.
